


A Skeptic's Plea

by DalishWinchester



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Porn, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26298433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DalishWinchester/pseuds/DalishWinchester
Summary: When seeking solace in the Fade doesn't work, Solas finds himself wandering into an unlikely place.
Relationships: Dalish (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Solas, Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan & Solas, Solas & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	A Skeptic's Plea

Sleep took him to Haven.

Her strong hand, rough and calloused, appeared so tiny in his own. The mark throbbed there, like a living thing. Each pulse reached toward her heart and mind, slowly drawing the life from her. To remove it would have healed her, but he was too weak. The best he managed was to hold it back.

He was always holding back, it seemed.

He had observed her, and the mark, in that small shack.

Her body actively fought to keep her alive, but her calm expression suggested she was only asleep. Beneath that serene, beautiful surface, her fierce spirit rallied.

He shut his eyes to shake himself out of this reverie, too indulgent… too dear.

He had come to the Fade with a different purpose.

He had been pleased to find Skyhold, or Tarasyl'an te'las, “the place where the sky is held back.” Ancient elves had lived and thrived here several millennia ago. He wanted to walk among them in their history, to see them thriving in the glory and splendor of their lives. The comparison to present-day elves was pathetic. He found it both invigorating and heartbreaking to see the People how they were so long ago.

Reaching deep into the Fade’s memory, he felt joy first, contentment. Conversation buzzed around. Many of the denizens of this other world, this world of will, were in various stages of decades-long rest. Others walked about, awake and alive in a way that modern Thedas would never know.

He walked among them and eavesdropped on their conversations. Politics. War. Sex. Power…

He chuckled to himself, _I suppose some things never change._

Then the memory became unclear, started fading around the edges. Frustrated, he tried to summon more detail.

A garden came into focus. A warrior, black and golden armor gleaming, knelt in front of a stone bench. His long hair was tied in a loose knot to the side. Although the image was still some distance away, Solas noticed him smile into the face of the woman sitting on the bench. She leaned forward, taking his cheek in her hand, and pulled him into a sweet, gentle kiss.

Solas took a few steps over to get a better view of their faces.

The warrior’s hand rested on the woman’s stomach, visibly swollen with child.

A pointed, familiar ache tightened in Solas’s chest.

Their kiss broke. Solas gasped.

The Inquisitor sat on the bench, beaming into the face of the man kneeling before her. She intertwined her fingers with his. Solas saw his own face smiling back at her.

“Vhenan, you are brilliant,” he heard in his own voice. “‘Enansal,’ is perfect. She is our blessing.”

She had permeated his thoughts too much. She was present, even here. Solas squeezed his eyes shut, willing another memory. Any other memory.

When he opened them, he stood in a library.

There. That’s more like it.

He strode over and began to peruse the titles: massive volumes of history, epic stories of adventure, and narrow collections of poetry. He slid one of the poetry books out and rested against the shelves.

Some of the poems were familiar: elven glory, war stories, the praises of the Evanuris. Some were new to him. Love poems, primarily. He generally avoided love stories, often finding them dull and cliche. Yet…

He passed a few moments just reading them out to himself. Some of the poems were sweet, others were detailed. Some so explicit that the elf felt a rise of heat in his cheeks. 

“That shouldn’t even be allowed, vhenan.”

Solas felt his heart quicken in his chest.

He didn’t have to look up to know.

Her voice.

The Inquisitor.

Again.

He focused intently on the page in front of him.

She ran a hand up to his arm, grazing him with her fingertips.

He fought to keep his breath even.

She rested a palm on his chest and looked up into his eyes.

“Your sultry voice… Those old, potent words… It’s just so erotic.”

He cleared his throat and began to shut the book.

“Don’t stop, my love. Please..."

She started trailing kisses down his jawline. He attempted to turn his face away, but she stretched up to his ear and whispered, “Keep reading." The damp warmth of her breath on his skin sent his pulse racing.

This isn’t her. She isn’t here. Not really.

Despite his control, he didn’t trust himself to lay his eyes on her.

Or his hands.

Solas struggled to focus on the page and keep reading.

Her tantalizing fingers danced down his chest as she pressed herself against him. He could feel the heat radiating off her, his skin tingling at her proximity. He noticed her soothing fragrance, like a forest after a rainstorm.

His heart pounded in his chest.

This distortion was so painfully accurate.

She reached between his legs, cupping her hand around his rapidly hardening length.

His breath hitched.

“Please. Please stop, vhenan.”

She tilted his chin down to look into her dark eyes, shimmering liquid heat.

Had he not known better, he would have sworn it was her. It was identical down to the very lilt in her voice as she whispered.

“Tell me you don’t want me, Solas.”

The echo of that recent memory created a pool of heat around his middle. 

_What if this is really her? She has moved about the Fade on her own before._

With her free hand, she slipped the book out of his fingers and sat it aside.

Placing both palms on his chest, she walked Solas back against the shelves and pressed her lips to his. She tasted so sweet, so intoxicating.

_Surely no fabrication could mimic her taste so closely..._

His body reacted, both hands reaching around to her backside. She groaned as he pulled her to him, tangling her hands around his neck. He felt her breasts flatten against the hard muscles of his chest. Lifting her off her feet, he turned, pressing her firmly to the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him, grinding against him. 

"Yes, Solas," she purred. "Please. Don't hold back this time."

She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, raking her teeth across the sensitive flesh. Her eyes never dropping his gaze. 

He growled into her, roughly maneuvering both her wrists into a tight grip above her head. She released a gasp, locking her dark eyes with his. The obvious pleasure hastened him.

Smugly, she said, "I knew you wanted me."

With his free hand, he began to unbutton her shirt, releasing her breasts. "I do want you. I want you so badly, Ellana," he said, taking her breast into his mouth. He nibbled and tugged, teased and sucked, drawing out her squeals and moans as her middle bucked against him with veracity. His attention shifted to her other breast. He was determined to awaken her body until every single nerve lit up for him. 

He slid his hand lower, freeing his erection. She looked down, biting her lip and grinning mischievously. 

"Make love to me, Solas."

When he kissed her this time- slowly, gently- he felt hope rise in his chest. As his hand moved to remove their clothes, he reasoned with himself that they could be together. They could _truly_ be together. Whatever future came later, he could face it knowing that they had one another. When they left the Fade, he would go to her, tell her everything.

“Solas,” she said, her voice quiet. “Wake up and go make love to me.”

He felt suddenly hollow. All the vitality and heat that had been coursing through his veins turned to ice. He loosed his hold on her and stepped back as she lowered her feet to the floor.

“No. NO!” he shouted. 

Her eyes warm, she said, “Don’t you see, my love? This is how it could be.”

“Show yourself, Desire,” he snarled, his knuckles whitening into fists.

Her eyes glistened and she reached out to him. “Are you okay, vhenan? Come here. Let me help.”

“Have you not mocked me enough already, spirit?”

The Inquisitor’s shape began to morph. The voice that left it’s mouth was no longer hers.

“You are mistaken, Solas.”

Sure enough, standing before him was no grotesque, nightmarish being of want. Instead, she had transformed into a tiny, effervescent creature floating in front of him.

The small face looked up at him with pity.

“Hope. My friend," he choked, his voice shaking in disappointment and rage. "Why? Why do this to me?”

“You needed to see. This is her hope, too, Solas," it said, tilting its head to the side. "She wants you to come to her bed, even now. You both hope for this. I do not understand..."

Solas stepped back again, discovering that he was once again dressed. 

Hope floated over, looking directly into his eyes. "Why are you afraid of me?”

He tilted his head back, took a shaky, deep breath and exhaled. 

“Because,” he whimpered through gritted teeth, “It cannot be. Begone, spirit. Away with you."

Hope reached out. Solas raised his hands in front of him, defensively. 

"Leave me,” he spat.

Reluctantly, Hope disappeared.

The irony was not lost on him.

Solas covered his face with his hands, slowing his breathing. It was a meager attempt to calm his nerves.

How stupid he was! How selfish and foolish!

“What you did was right. You have a chance to not hurt her this way.”

Looking through his fingers, he recognized the young man now standing before him. The library had disappeared to reveal shadows of grey and green, swirling in darkness.

And his friend.

“Cole. I am so pleased you are here,” Solas sighed, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

They walked through shadows, easing into a stroll. This was not unusual. They often found comfort together in the mysterious familiar of the Fade.

“She wouldn't understand, Solas.”

“I know.”

“If you give in, she will, too. She will love you, and then she will hurt.”

Solas stopped abruptly.

“Despite tonight’s events, I have no intention of that, Cole. You know I have other goals. I will not lose control.”

The boy squinted, piercing eyes glaring at Solas.

“You will fail. You ache for her. You will fall to your hope and you will be with her. And then everyone will hurt.”

Shaking his head, Solas said, “Cole, I will not fail. I know I cannot.”

The boy pointed at Solas.

“Hope is a liar. You must end this. You are weak if you continue. You are a failure.”

“Why would you say such things? Cole, you… But,” Solas said, taking a step back. “You are not Cole.” 

The voice deepened, mutating into something gross, malevolent. It laughed haughtily.

“Proud old Solas… you make so many mistakes for one so wise. Have you _ever_ done anything right? You have the chance to now," the boy faded into a massive shadow. A huge horned spirit stood in his place.

"You can continue being a coward. Or you can become a man who rights his wrongs. End this with her. You must not continue.”

Solas continued walking backward, away from the demon, magic sparkling at his fingertips. 

Leaning down, it said, “You think you are so clever, but you know nothing. You believe you are strong. You are not. You proved that long ago. You prove that now. Soon, everyone you’ve ever loved will be gone. Forever. Because you were too WEAK to walk away from her.”

Solas gasped as he shot up in his bed. His heart hammered inside his chest. His sheets caught on the sheen of sweat across his skin. He blinked back the tears.

He had been a fool. He was not so inexperienced in the Fade to be tricked with such ease. He knew better. Solas eased himself over to sit on the edge of the bed. 

He needed a walk. 

He tugged his tunic over his head and wrapped himself in a cloak. It was late, and Skyhold would be drafty.

He slung his staff between his shoulders. The familiar weight offered some comfort.

Cracking open the door to his room, he peered out. No lights.

Closing the door behind him, he began to wander. He roamed down the enormous hallways to the great hall, observing the reparations. Skyhold had begun to resemble a formidable fortress. Very little remained in disarray. Her seat, her throne, stood at the front of the room. A sliver of moonlight crept in through the windows, illuminating the simple Dalish carvings.

The coals in the fire were almost cold, the slightest red glow present in the hearth.

He wandered carefully, silently into the rotunda. The last thing he needed was for Leliana’s birds to sound an alarm.

The sky offered light enough for him to see shadows of his paintings.

His work told the story of her heroic exploits. It chronicled her decisions and encounters as she recruited for the Inquisition. Somebody would see this, years from now, and, hopefully, would still tell stories of her bravery. A Dalish elf who rose above prejudice and ignorance to unite the world against the breach. Against Corypheus. She was a miracle to so many. A savior sent by Andraste herself to redeem them all.

_Were circumstances different, I wonder if she might’ve redeemed me._

His continued wandering led him out a side door. The stars lit up the sky. The moon, achingly bright, had begun its descent. Handfuls of soldiers paced at their posts on the battlements, but the courtyard was empty. Dawn was only a handful of hours away. The Herald’s Rest sat dark, the bard’s songs silent. Revelers were long gone, sleeping off their night of drinking and companionship. 

Solas pulled his cloak tighter to guard against the chill. He suspected this cold had more to do with his earlier journey into the Fade than with the temperature.

The waking world had never been as appealing as where he went in his sleep. Dreaming was his refuge, and now he couldn’t escape her, even there. His days revolve around her, and now, too, it seems, so did his nights.

The strongest image, the look of love pouring from her as he had felt her pregnant belly. It would haunt him forever, the memory of a hope he had suppressed so very long ago.

But, of course, there are no secrets in the Fade. The spirits know everything.

A child… It was cruel to allow himself to believe it possible, even for a moment. That moment was all it took, though. He saw thick hair, dark brown like his, and coffee-colored eyes flecked with gold and green. A smattering of freckles across her nose…

The weight of that dream tightened around his heart.

It cannot be.

He blinked back his tears.

Solas forced himself to remember the library in the Fade. He needed to figure out how to stop these dreams, but…

_Tell me you don’t want me._

Only a few evenings ago, under the entrance to the great hall, she had pulled him to her. She had guided his hand over her breast, down her waist to the hem of her shirt.

He had broken their kiss and backed away.

“Vhenan, we cannot.”

“Tell me you don’t want me, Solas.”

The spirit mimicked her perfectly. The hot desire in her voice. The hungry inflection.

_Tell me you don’t want me._

He glanced around.

At some point in his contemplation, he had wandered into the garden.

His sharp eyes surveyed every corner to ensure that he was alone before he stepped into the small room.

He slid a long, thin candle from the pocket inside his robes and flicked his fingers. He watched as a small flame budded from the tip of the candle.

That candle. He had carried it with him since the first time he had considered this many months ago... 

Since he awoke from their first kiss in the Fade.

He knelt. 

He lit each candle on the altar in front of him. Magic would have been a more efficient means, but in this instance, it felt wrong. He wanted to do this the right way.

“In all my dreams, I never would have imagined myself kneeling before a human god," he said, gazing up at the tall statue.

"But here I am.”

He blew out the candle and set it to the side as he focused on the face. The incandescent light glimmered. Her features were soft, welcoming.

“Andraste,” he whispered.

He slid the cowl off his head. His jaw set. 

He clasped his hands together in front of him.

“I am not sure I can adequately explain what brings me here. I am not entirely sure that I myself know why.”

He swallowed as the familiar tightness spread across his chest.

“I’ve made a terrible mistake, and I am afraid.”

The words sounded cowardly and metallic on his tongue. The shadows from the candlelight twirled on the walls around him.

“I loved her so quickly.”

Still, he thought, if it had just been me, then I would have been the only one with a broken heart when all this is over.

“I was just so weak. It has been ages since anyone touched me. When she kissed me…”

His finger traced his lips, swept into the memory of her own. Soft. Warm. Even in the Fade. For the first time in all his life, he had felt safe. He closed his eyes, replaying the memory as he had hundreds of times since that day.

His pulse quickened, desire growing and building beneath his skin.

_Her body against mine. Her hands on my face. How tenderly she touched me._

“I was starving.”

He rubbed his palms against his thighs, bracing himself against the emotions that threatened to suffocate him.

“I was selfish and foolish and cruel. And I’ve continued to be such.”

His mind filled with so many flashes of her face, of the myriad furtive glances, clandestine kisses in the dark and secret corners of Skyhold, her groaning his name, sighing into his mouth, breath hot against his neck…

“She wants to be with me. She wants to make this work and, Andraste forgive me, I have not even attempted to dissuade her.”

Agony seeped from his eyes then, trickling down his face, burning against his flushed skin. He wiped it away with his palms. 

“Andraste, I do not believe in the Maker, nor any being of greater power. But she…”

He looked up at the stone face. The gentle, kind face. 

“She believes in you. She believes you sent her here. And I...”

He gulped.

_I believe in her._

The candles flickered as a breeze swept past the open doorway.

He exhaled. 

“This duplicity is draining. I am on the precipice of confessing... everything. I know I cannot… I should not...”

He ran a palm down his face.

“My burden is almost unbearable, but she wants to carry it with me," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Since I was a young man, I have been alone, but she wants me. Solas. For me.”

He remembered no parents or siblings. No family. His earliest memories were of solitude- him alone in the forest, dreaming. Enjoying the company of spirits. He had been clever, though, and as he grew, he built a life for himself. He was incredibly powerful, gifted in magic. Maybe it was because of this that he felt like he had something to prove, always ready to leap into a fight or a half-empty bed. The women he knew in his youth, they had wanted what he was, what he could do for them, and he used them just the same. No one, in his entire life, had ever cared about what he wanted or who he was. Not really.

And he had been okay with that, until now. At least, he thought he had.

“Please, Andraste. Guide me on how I might avoid the pain I will inevitably cause her.”

He sighed in frustration as he reluctantly confessed a truth he had only, at this moment, allowed himself to realize. 

“And not just her. This Inquisition has become my home. And these people..."

Images of them flashed through his mind.

Bull's determination as he declared himself Tal Vashoth, breaking from his culture in favor of the Chargers, his chosen family. He and Dorian had that in common from the beginning. They were both outcasts, but they believed in a cause. They believed in the Inquisition. They fit here. And they found love here... with each other. Solas was happy for them.

And Cole. Sweet, innocent, good Cole who looked to Solas for guidance in this world. He often had to guard his mind against Cole’s eagerness to help. 

These people were each so odd and yet each so oddly connected.

"They have become my…” his voice trembled as he muttered, “My family. As annoying as they can sometimes be.”

He shook his head in disbelief. How had he gotten here? 

“My plans are for the greater good. It is my duty to repair what I have broken,” he rushed as if to assure himself. 

“My mistake cost my people everything. I see no way around the chaos I must cause. I beg you, Andraste,” he pleaded upward, searching her stone gaze for assurance.

“It is true. You owe me nothing," he took a deep breath.

"But her..."

He closed his eyes.

"She loves you. I want nothing more than to avoid this, but I am too weak,” he pleaded. 

“Andraste, I...I need a miracle.”

Click.

He felt air rush against the side of his face.

He saw the bolt crash into the stone wall before he heard it.

THUNK!

“That didn’t land in your skull, Chuckles. How much more of a miracle do you need?”

Solas growled, “Varric.”

He drew his staff as he stood to face the dwarf.

Varric pulled the door closed, then turned to face the elf, his eyes narrowing and unflinching as he met Solas’s gaze. The already small space shrunk tightly around the two men.

Solas might well have _chuckled_ under different circumstances. Varric was a sight in his sleep robes. They had the same deep neckline as his jacket. He wore his shoulder holster over the red flannel material.

Even at night, secure inside the walls of Skyhold, the dwarf was ready for battle. And drama. Varric was always ready for drama.

_I suppose Kirkwall will do that to a person._

“Really? You? Asking for a miracle?" Varric grumbled as he nestled Bianca back into her holster. "It isn’t Andraste’s responsibility to keep you from being a complete prideful ass.”

The elf was silent, but he felt the heat rising up his neck. Magic flickered around his fingers. He gripped his staff, both for stability and to ensure he didn't destroy the dwarf here and now.

“I’m sure the last thing you want is advice from me.”

Solas glowered. “I suppose it is too much to hope you’ll show me a small mercy and keep it to yourself?”

Varric laughed, “Don’t push your luck.” 

He stood quietly for a moment as if hesitating. His voice was firm and solemn when he spoke again.

“Listen, you’ve seen a lot in the Fade. Did you happen to see the beginning of the Mage Rebellion? The Chantry explosion in Kirkwall?”

Solas said nothing. He had seen the turmoil caused by the Champion’s trusted companion.

“That guy was a friend of mine. He got bent on this ‘greater good’ and ‘making things better for his people’ bullshit.” 

Despite his storytelling and theatrics, Solas heard the sincerity in the dwarf’s voice. He sounded as though he were pleading. 

“Anders ditched the woman he loved and any kind of future he might have had with her. All because he had a ‘greater purpose.’"

He stomped forward, poking a pointed finger into Solas’s chest. 

"So don’t. Give. _Me_. That. Shit."

Varric took a deep breath and his shoulders slunk.

“You’re looking for a miracle? A sign?” He gestured toward the statue. 

“Inquisitor Lavellan... She just… She walked straight out of the fucking Fade. What more do you want?”

Solas’s still stood erect, but he felt the muscles in his face and ears relax. Varric walked across the small room to pry the bolt out of the stone wall.

“If I know anything, I know stories. This one doesn't end well. That angst?”

He tugged, but the bolt was in deeper than he’d thought. 

“Makes for an interesting read, a bestseller, even, but the characters end up miserable. If you want a happy ending? You gotta make one,” he grunted, using both hands to pull the bolt free.

Varric rested his hand lightly on Solas’s arm.

“Let’s face it, there's something broken in all us weirdos, but we’re here. And we're healing. Because of her."

He let that sink in as Solas looked him in the eye. Varric saw something soften in the elf’s hard stare.

“So you’re damn right. This is a family. She made this a family. And if you hurt her?” 

Solas’s eyebrows pinched together. He took a deep breath as Varric continued. He reached behind him to pat Bianca. “You’ll have a lot more to fear than not fulfilling your duty,” the dwarf said, shoving the bolt back into its quiver.

“You should consider yourself lucky. Bianca doesn’t give everybody a warning shot.”

“Varric, why are you here?” The defensive edge was gone from Solas's voice now. His inquiry was barely above a whisper.

“This may shock you, but Andraste and I have conversations pretty regularly. You’re not the only one with a past, Chuckles,” said Varric, his eyes shifting downward. “And you’re not alone in making mistakes.”

Solas tightened his lips. All their time with the Inquisition and this was strangely the longest and least-heated discussion the two ever had. 

The elf found himself wanting to ask Varric about those mistakes.

Instead, he remained silent.

The dwarf pointed a thumb back over his shoulder.

“Seriously, Chuckles,” Varric pushed the door open. “Get out. It’s my turn."

Solas made his way to the door, but Varric stopped him just shy of the threshold.

"Oh, Solas?”

“Yes?”

“Trust me. Loving her? That isn’t weak, but leaving her sure as hell would be.”

Solas walked out, shutting the door behind him, but remained standing there, just outside the chapel. 

After a few long seconds, he said, “Good night, Varric. And thank you.”


End file.
